Kill the Dead (Sandman Slim 2)

I nudge Aki with my foot.

“You have a car around here?”

“A block up.”

“Get up. I’m taking you someplace safe and then we’re going to invite Mommy over for tea.”

“She knows who you are. She’s not afraid of you, you know.”

“Not yet. But if she knows I have her little boy, she’ll come over. And if she doesn’t, I’ll kill you and find her myself. Where’s your car?”

He points behind us.

“It’s the silver Beamer.”

“Give me the keys.”

He does. I pick him up and toss him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

The BMW is a silver four-door coupe. I open the rear driver’s door and toss Aki in so he can straighten out his leg and bleed somewhere that’s not on me.

It feels funny to start a car with its own key. Blasphemous almost. Who would want to own something like a BMW? You’d have to take care of it like it’s a pet. The whole idea of owning things makes me queasy.

I adjust the mirrors and look back at Aki in case he has another pistol hidden under the seat. If he does, he’s not pulling it. He’s flat on his back, sweating and bone white.

“I don’t want to drive around in a puke-smelling car, so if you need me to stop, say so.”

“Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

I turn the ignition and we head for the Chateau Marmont.

IT’S ONE LONG, wet shit storm from the hospital to the hotel. Drifters and civilians fill the streets. Civilians run and the slow-moving Drifters bring them down in groups, like hyenas. They grab people at gas stations and all-night markets, off buses, out of cars, and chase them off the roofs of nearby buildings.

The pack is the Drifters’ real weapon. A motorcycle cop in the intersection manages to get away from one group and runs straight into the arms of another. There are just so damned many of them. I have to drive on the sidewalk and over a few stop signs to get around all the abandoned cars. The Beamer is heavy enough that it makes a pretty good battering ram, so along the way I splatter as many Drifters as I can on the hood. Mostly I go for Lacunas, the vicious little pricks. They’re easy to pick out. Zeds lumber like windup toys, but Lacunas can run and climb and hunt specific people. And they’re intelligent enough to understand what’s happening when I crush their spines and skulls under my wheels. By the time I get to the Chateau Marmont, the front of the car is a slaughterhouse spin-art painting.

Aki moans and whines every time the car bumps into something.

“Aaaah! I’m losing a lot of blood back here.”

“If you were losing a lot of blood, you wouldn’t be able to talk, so feel free to bleed faster.”

I steer us into the hotel parking lot, minus a headlight and with a lot more dents in the hood and skull fragments in the radiator than when we started. Fuck me for having too good a time on the way over. I don’t spot the vans following us until I kill the engine and the vans are moving into position to block the only exit to the street.

“The cavalry is here. Want to give yourself up, kid?”

Aki pulls himself up into a sitting position using the passenger-side headrest. He looks outside through the windshield.

“Who’s that?”

“That’s a law enforcement combo pack. The Golden Vigil and Homeland Security.”

“Golden what?”

“God’s G-men. If you think I’m bad, see what happens when those feds and sky pilots get hold of you.”

“No way, man. No cops and no preachers.”

“At least we agree on that. Keep your head down and don’t make a sound.”